Times of War
by I'dBeLostWithoutMyBlogger
Summary: John Watson finds himself in a constant flash back once a friend of his past becomes his enemy. Between Sherlock and John fighting their felling for one another and Mycroft butting in will the solve the mystery in time.
1. Stage of Events

John's Point of View:

There was a cool drizzle of rain, and the sun peaked shyly from behind the immense but diminishing clouds. From the look of it you would've guessed it was roughly 5 in the afternoon, when it was really 6:30 in the morning. Sherlock and I had just finished up at Scotland Yard, going over unsolved cases with Lestrade, in which Sherlock worked out as quickly as possible. It had been a long night, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

When we finally reached the door to the flat it hit me what today actually was. I took myself by surprise, I'd forgotten my own birthday! And thank God the only person in my life that new about it was Harry. She would certainly want to see me today, but all I could think about was a nice relaxing night at the flat. By this time we had already ascended the stairs and entered the main room, and Sherlock had noticed the frustrated look on my face.

"John, have you forgotten something?" he questioned. Taking his usual spot on the sofa while I slowly made my way into the kitchen to make coffee, I was going to need it. I turned to face him when I reached the cabinets.

"No. No I don't think so?" I tried to hide it, but Sherlock always read me like an open book. I like that about him, but I also despise it. I pulled down the container of coffee and started to make my overbearing flatmate and I a cup. I didn't want him to know, just as I didn't want anybody to know. It wasn't important to me.

Sherlock's phone buzzed, I just guessed it was Lestrade asking some last minute questions, until I saw a mischievous grin cross his face. He answered quickly, sat down his phone, and leaned forward in my direction placing his elbows on his knees.

"Who was that?" I asked trying to keep my normal, calm, demeanor.

"Mycroft" he answered quickly, but with a bit of excitement in his voice, which was unusual when it came to his brother's name.

"Oh, what does he want? Does he have a case for us?" I like using the term 'us' it made me feel like I belonged to a team again. I mean we were a team. We worked every case together not to mention the long hours we had just endured. Sherlock stood slowly making his way toward the kitchen leaning casually against the counter opposite of me.

"So... when were you going to tell me it's your birthday?" I had to stop myself from spinning around and yelling at him. I Iet out a sigh and let my head drop til I was looking at the floor.

"How did you know?" I choked out turning slowly keeping my eyes on the floor, trying not to burn a hole through it. I was waiting for him to spit out some overly deduced, matter-of-fact, statement but all he said was...

"Mycroft just told me."

I was surprised and relieved, I was going to question how Mycroft even knew, but, he was the British Government as Sherlock would point out. Before I could put my thoughts into words there was Sherlock, standing right infront of me. His long, graceful fingers stretched out over my shoulders. My eyes shot up to his face immediately. A shiver ran down my spine as I stared, lost, into his eyes. He had no expression on his face or at least I couldn't find one. Slowly I felt his hands creep across the back of my neck as he pulled me into a hug.

"Happy Birthday John." He said with a smile. It was the most emotion I have ever seen or heard from the famous consulting detective, but I loved it.

I threw my arms around his waist and snuggled into his chest, maybe a bit too quickly for I felt a small twitch from Sherlock. I pulled back feeling a bit flushed, but not letting go of Sherlock's waist.

"Thank you, Sherlock. That really means a lot to me." Sherlock let out a small sigh of approval before letting go of me completely and backing up.

"Well you're welcome John." He looked down and started walking back towards the sofa before stopping in the middle of the room to look at me.

"Sorry, you know I'm not good at this emotion thing and I..." I cut him off immediately.

"Sherlock, you are wonderful." I shot a smile at him, he seemed a bit taken back by my statement, but his worry quickly turned to gratitude. I was confused but mostly worried. Sherlock never showed emotion, ever, I wanted to ask or retaliate, I wasn't sure. But it wasn't long before he caught the look screaming across my face.

"Thank you" he said quickly turning to continue his earlier interrupted path to the sofa.

I wanted to write it off, but I couldn't. I couldn't believe how Sherlock always made me feel, even when he wasn't showing me attention. To me, everything he did was just, brilliant.

The rest of the day was pretty normal. I begged Sherlock not to tell anyone about my birthday, in which he agreed. He called it to much unwanted attention. Then, as always, he laid on the sofa lost in his thoughts on what the next day would bring.

It was about 4:30 that night when Harry came to pick me up for my 'birthday night out.' I asked Sherlock if he wanted to come, but he said it would be better if he stayed and for me to enjoy myself. I tried but the earlier encounter with him burned in my mind. But most of all I was exhausted, but Harry wouldn't let me go so easily on my birthday.


	2. My Doctor

John's Point of View:

I didn't arrive home til about 11:30 that night. I tried to be as quiet as possible when I entered the flat, in fear of waking a sleeping Sherlock. 'Ha. Sherlock sleeping.' now that was a thought. That man never slept it seemed, it wasn't healthy, but even as a doctor I couldn't persuade him to do other wise.

The room was pitch black when I finally got in. I guess he really did go to sleep. I fumbled around until I found my chair and put my phone, jacket, and keys in it. I didn't really feel tired but I knew I needed some kind of rest. I thought about taking a shower but dismissed it when I realized that I only had 20 minutes left of my birthday and thought I should take this time to reflect on my year.

My eyes still hadn't adjusted to the lack of light but I made my way to the sofa and laid down. As harsh as this is about to sound, my life was shit until I met Sherlock. That handsome devil of a man had turned my world inside out, and I believe I owe him for that. After my time in Afghanistan, I wished that shot through my shoulder would've killed me. Every day I wished I could go back in time and make that bullet drive straight through my heart. I let out a deep sigh not wanting to continue, but then I remembered Sherlock. I started to vocalize my thoughts without being too loud. It made me feel better when I wasn't just thinking.

"Oh Sherlock, all the hell you put me through. It seems unbearable sometimes. You are aggravating, selfish, beautiful..." I started to doze off.

"But I would take Afghanistan 100 times over as long as it meant I could be by your side Sherlock." I felt my body relax realizing laying down was probably not the best idea.

I stood up and went for my phone. 12 on the dot. Well, I guess that's it. The end of another year of my life, and all I knew is that I was going to make it the best.

I heard a shuffle from across the room and immediately went into soldier mode, only to find a drowsy Sherlock creeping from his room. He was still fully dressed, except for his shoes. He must of passed out while I was gone. I waited for a moment and then made my way to him.

"Sherlock, what's wrong? Why are you out of bed?" I reached out to him and he slowly sank into my arms, his head on my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck.

"I heard your voice John, I was trying to wait for you, are you okay?" With every word his warm breath tickled my skin. This is not good.

"It's quite alright Sherlock, you didn't need to try to wait for me, you knew I would come home." I felt him smile on the skin of my neck which made me shiver.

"Are you cold John?" The sleepy Sherlock questioned.

"Yea, a bit but I'm fine. You won't be though if you don't get some more sleep." I said trying to get him to stand on his own. He let out a sharp sigh.

"Fine, if my doctor says so." He pushed himself upright and headed into his dark room.

The words 'my doctor' rang through my ears so loudly I couldn't hear myself think. I came back to reality remembering how tired Sherlock is and wondering if he could get in bed safely. I rushed in. The only light in the room was coming in from the window, and all I could see was Sherlock sitting on the floor fiddling with his shirt buttons. He probably sat down so he wouldn't fall. Luckily he was awake enough to do that. I softly knocked on the door, he look up quickly. The pale light danced slowly over his flawless facial features. From his strong cheek bones to his perfect little nose.

"Yes?" he said in his usual tone, but I knew he was faking it.

"Would you like some help?" I said without regarding the actions of my words. He stared at me for a while but was too tired to argue.

"Can you help me up?" he asked almost sweetly I had to silence myself from laughing. I walked over to him and put both of my hands under his arms and instructed him to put his on my shoulders.

"On three." I said softly. "one... two... three" I lifted him as gently as possible, treating his fragile frame like an artistic masterpiece that was not to be damaged. I helped to the be cautious and laid him down. Not sure if I was done I inquired...

"Anything else sir?" with a slight chuckle. He shook his head 'no' and reached his arms straight up at me. I wasn't sure what he wanted...a hug maybe? But that's not Sherlock... but then again why wouldn't I hug him.

I smiled and leaned in between his arms. Putting one arm behind his head where I rested all my weight, and my hand on his waist just above his hip. He swung his long arms around me and tightened his grip. As confusing as today has been I didn't mind the attention I was getting from Sherlock, who knows, I may never see this side of him again. I rose a bit to look into his eyes. The were open just enough for the dim light to ripple in them.

"I'll be on the sofa if you need me. I don't want you getting up anymore tonight. Understood."

I heard a small groan. I guess that was him agreeing with me as he wrapped his arms tighter around me until our foreheads met.

I felt hot, leaning over Sherlock's long, magnificent, gorgeous body feeling his breath across my lips. I felt overwhelmed. What am I supposed to do.

"Goodnight John." He said softly and almost unconsciously. I had to do something, this was killing me. I tilted my head up just enough for my lips to rest on his forehead.

"Goodnight Sherlock." I said back dislodging myself from him and walking towards the door. I turned to ask him if he wanted it left open, but he was already asleep. I smiled and left it open. Taking my place on the sofa.


	3. Come to your senses John!

Sherlock's Point of View:

There hasn't been a new case in three weeks since the night of John's birthday, and he has been a ghost to the flat. He says that he's been seeing someone, but we both know that isn't true. He's been home at some late, unusual hours, yet cheerful when he wakes up, I can see that's just a front.

God, it's infuriating how much that man worries me. I realized if I paced the floor any longer it would give in, instead taking purchase by the window.

Baker street was dull as always, until I caught a glimpse of John walking towards the flat. It's only 3 in the afternoon, not that I was complaining that John was home early. I missed having him around, sleep was becoming a lot more difficult knowing John wasn't home safe.

"What are you letting this man do to you Sherlock." I tried to calm myself down, hearing John's unmistakable footsteps up the stairs.

"Sherlock" he called opening the door, I didn't reply, just turning to greet his cheerful face as he entered.

"I have a surprise for you" he said with a smile walking over to me.

I raised my eyebrow in reply.

"Oh really? And what is this surprise?" My heart ached over the fear that he really was seeing some woman. It was almost to the point that I could feel my heart beating through out my whole body.

He just laughed, even when he stopped his eyes kept smiling. Those bright blue eyes, oh how they tortured me.

"All I'm going to tell you is that you need to shower and get dressed, I have some things to take care of my own." He was carrying a rather large suit case. I couldn't even guess what was in it. He seemed terribly excited though. Maybe I could work the surprise out of him.

I nodded in agreement and made my way towards the bathroom.

I couldn't say the extent of the surprise didn't bother me. I wanted to know, and yet that also bothered me. I couldn't trust John enough for him to lead me blind into a surprise.

I sighed and dispatched my clothing into a pool on the floor. I tried not to take long in the shower. Normally I just stand here and think, but there was no time for that now.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when I opened the door, and of course the only towel that was in here was too small to fit around my waist correctly, so I was holding it securely with one hand.

In midst of walking to my room I heard John scream. It wasn't a cry for help, it sounded like he was in pain.

Almost dropping my towel I ran up to John's room and busted the door in, it was unlocked, surprisingly, and with the amount of force I threw into it, I'm surprised it survived.

John was sitting on the bed, shirtless, with a gaping wound on his upper left arm. The scream, I'm assuming, was from him trying to stitch up the slightly bleeding gash. It wasn't fresh, it looked like it was made sometime last night.

My heart sunk, adrenaline pumping. I thought John was in trouble, luckily he wasn't, but he was still hurt badly, and I didn't understand why he hadn't told me. I as stuck at the door, starring deep into the wound John so obviously tried hide.

"Sherlock?" he spoke.

"Are you alright?" I walked slowly towards him feeling a bit hurt.

"Am I alright John, Look at you." I'm sure the concern was heavy in my voice.

"As soon as I got out of the shower I heard you scream. I.. I thought..."

John reached out his uninjured arm and put his hand on my cheek. I reluctantly sat down next to him. I was mad, scared, but mostly hurt. I had no idea what to say or do.

John slowly brought my face up to his so our eyes could meet.

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I just didn't want you to worry about it." I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Worry about something like this. Yes I would be concerned John but I waste my worrying on weather or not you are coming home or not. If my next case is going to be without you because you are going to be the victim! I couldn't do it John, I just couldn't." I tried to calm myself. I couldn't believe what I was saying. I stood up abruptly.

"John." I said putting one hand behind his neck placing my head against his. Still holding my towel in the other.

"I'm sorry John."

He just 'shhhed' me softly rummaging his hand through my hair.

"No you're right Sherlock" he said.

"That's why I planned this surprise day for us, I've been stupid and blind and I'm sorry." I felt my heart drop to the floor.

I hated when he apologized to me, because I never wanted him to be sorry for anything. I let go of him and moved back feeling his strong hand fall out of my hair. I gave him a smile.

"First" I proclaimed.

"I'm going to grab some pants, then we're going to fix up that arm of yours. After that we are going to have an amazing night even though I have no idea what we are doing."

He smiled brightly, then nodded.

"I promise, you'll have more fun than you've ever had on any case."

That stopped my dead in my tracks. That was a big promise, but he seem so confident in his promise. There was only one thing I could think to say.

"I trust you John." He was now beaming with the idea that I trusted him, and honestly I did.

"I'll be right back" I said winking to him.

I ran down the stairs, dropping my towel halfway, and into my room. I grabbed my pants, threw them on and gunned it back to John, who had continued his battlefield surgery.

He stopped when he saw me at the door. I wanted to ask him how it happened, but I figured if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. I walked over and sat next to him on the bed. I wanted to help, oh how it pained me to see him slowly wincing at every intrusion the needle made into his skin.

But John was strong and he knew what he was doing, I just wanted to comfort him.


	4. Hot Shot

Sherlock's Point of View:

After the ordeal had past John and I finished getting dressed and met at the stairs. I took the large case from him immediately not wanting him to strain his arm. Before I had a chance to open the door his hand was on my back. I turned to see what he needed.

"Sherlock, I know you know every street, alley, and gutter in London...so..." he paused with a sly grin an pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket.

"I'm going to blind fold you." He cocked his head, closed his eyes and gave me that smile that sent my heart racing.

I had to give in.

"Fine, I'll do it."

I half smiled and made my way out the door, making sure John was safely out before shutting and locking it. I hailed a taxi, John was never good at it. When it pulled up John shot me a 'stay right there' look and a smile. I did as instructed and waited as John told the cabbie the secret destination, and probably asked him not to mention it.

He motioned me over, I carefully placed the mysterious case on the ground and ran over to John to open the door for him. He was surprised he looked up at me and pulled me into a hug.

"John, your arm." I protested.

He just scoffed at me.

"Thank you for your concern Sherlock, but I have to hug you."

I smiled at this, waited until John was seated in the cab and shut the door. I ran over to the case and got in the other side.

I stared into those bright blue eyes of his until he pulled out the blind fold. I was seated next to him, I slid over until our legs touched. John put each end of the blind fold in his hands, he didn't put it on me immediately though. He took his time, running his fingers along each side of my jaw and up my cheek bones before gently wrapping around my head. He pulled away slowly allowing his fingers to drape down my neck and chest before putting them in his lap.

I didn't understand the waterfall of feelings rushing over me. How did John do it? With just a simple touch, God how I wished to hold him right now. It was unbearable to think about. So I let my mind wander the streets the cabbie was taking until the car came to a stop.

I wanted to get out of the car before John to help him, but he obviously didn't want me to see anything until I was right where he wanted me.

We walked for quite a bit until I felt John pull me to a stop. It was nearly 5 now and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I hear the case open and a couple of things being place on a table. But I knew we had to be outside. We hadn't entered any buildings since they got out of the cab.

Then I heard the cocking of a gun. I tried to stay calm I was still blind folded and I really needed to trust John. I felt a hand brush against my cheek and my blind fold was realized. I stood amazed staring at John.

"We are at an outdoor firing range." I marveled at the thought. He may of been correct when he promised me more fun than a case. I looked around.

"Isn't the sun going to be setting soon?"

John let out a laugh.

"They have out door lights Sherlock." I kicked myself for not realizing that. But truly I was only focused on John. He amazes me so much. I just don't understand it.

"I love it." I threw in, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me. He could only smile. I could tell he was excited too.

"Well I thought it appropriate for a couple reasons. One, you can release your stress and anger of not having a case on targets. Two, I'm a trained shooter, and hopefully I can teach you something."

He turned and started tending to the many guns he had with him. I would have never guessed that John was this heavily armed. There was his Browning L9A1, a Smith and Wesson Magnum, a P226 pistol, and a 12 Gage shot gun, which I was defiantly not expecting.

I inspected him as he put his guns in the order to be shot, most likely least to most difficult. I searched his face for a reason behind this that's when he turned to look at me.

"I know you're wondering why, aren't you?" I could only stare at him, lost in his tone and body movements, I was stone. He laughed a bit and walked up to me placing a hand on my arm.

"I want you to have fun with this. But I'm teaching you the best way to use these guns for your safety. You obviously know I care about you, and if I can teach you what I know I feel like I'm doing my job as your protector."

That word was the arrow that caused me to break from my stone shell. 'Protector' honestly that's all he ever did was protect me, from everything. Even our second day of knowing each other he killed someone to protect me.

I threw my arms around him making sure not to squeeze him too hard.

"You are brilliant John Watson." I let go beaming in his direction. I could tell it was making him happy that I liked this secretive play date.

I looked around cautiously.

"Let's begin." John just laughed.

"Hold on, I know you know how to play with guns. But you need to see how to use a gun."

John picked up his Browning and cocked it back. He scanned the many of targets out in the field but couldn't decide. I was doing the same to see which one he might pick instead he turned to me.

"You know the power of this gun. You've used it. I want you to pick a target for me to hit." I looked at him a bit confused. He let out a sigh.

"See I know which one I can hit. That's another skill to learn with guns knowing where your real targets are. You need to learn which ones you can and can not hit with each gun."

John had switched into soldier mode, there was no playing at the moment. I could tell he wasn't trying to be a show off, or out gun me, he was trying to protect me. The only pride I could see on his face was of him being a soldier, and standing here with me.

I decided I needed to focus. There were currently 4 targets on the field each in it's own unique position. The furthest one was at 500 yards. I'm sure John could hit it but I didn't want to seem like I was pressuring him. I made my decision quickly.

"Contact right, 250 yards." I was proud that I knew some Army lingo. John's face flushed, probably because of the tone I was using.

"Alright then. Now what I want you to do is watch me."

"That's not hard" I muttered, but he caught it, sending a look back to me.

"Oh shit. I almost forgot." He said catching himself. I watched him run over to the case and pull out a giant pair of silencing ear muff which he handed to me.

"I know you are not going to want to wear these. But please wear them. "

"What about you?" I inquired already knowing the answer.

"Sherlock, I've dealt with the noise of guns for so long it has become music to me. I couldn't wear those if I wanted to." There was a quick glance at the ground but his eyes shot perfectly back to mine.

"As you wish, Doctor." I said walking closer to where John would be taking his shot and putting the ear muffs around my neck so I could hear him speak.

"Now when it comes to the Browning, for someone of your size you want to hold it with two hands. One obviously on the trigger, the other at the bottom..."

He continued to instruct me on all the major details of the gun. But I trailed off somewhere in that deep, sensual voice. Watching every move he made as if an angel who was about to fly away. His cool demeanor still stood as was still in soldier mode. He stopped and looked at me.

"You are going to want to put those on." I had heard the shot before and John new it didn't bother me. He must of gotten stronger bullets. I stood as close, but as far away as possible as John lined up his shot.

"Attention. Contact. Right." he commanded himself gracefully, every muffled word danced through my ears perfectly.

"Ready. Aim. Fire."

And with that John had given one perfect head shot to the target which was knocked down. He relaxed himself with approval and turned to me. Motioning to take out the silencer. I did as told.

"The most important thing isn't your aim, or your stance, it isn't your gun, nor your bullets." I listened lost again into his voice.

"It's your courage, determination, and love for one's safety." He smiled at me obviously proud of himself.

"Do you want to give it a shot?"

Why wouldn't I? I love that gun already. I walked slowly over to John who handed me the Browning. Then grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the spot where he was standing.

"Contact Left. 250 yards." He said confidently.

"I want to see you line your shot before you take it so I can see how well you listen." I looked back at him with a smile.

I stood legs together, both hands on the gun as instructed and lined it the best I could with the targets head.

He tsked at me.

"Sherlock if I let you take this shot right now do you know what will happen?"

I shook my head confused. I thought I had this right. He walked up behind me putting one hand on my waist the other on my shoulder.

"Well if you don't know I'm going to let you take it and the you can tell me why." He slowly slid his hand up my waist until it met my other shoulder.

"Keep your aim. I'm going to put your silencer on, when you hear me yell fire. I want you to take the shot."

I nodded. He lifted the muffs from my neck and placed them over my ears. He stepped back a few steps and readied himself for the command.

"Ready. Aim." I was so sure I was going to make this I had no idea what John was talking about.

"FIRE." I pulled the trigger, but the force of the gun threw me back into John who caught me safely in his arms.

"What was that." I must have been yelling cause I couldn't really hear anything. John grabbed the gun while I removed the ear muffs. I stared at him in disbelief. The looked at the target. Nothing.

"Sherlock. You cannot stand with you legs together, no matter how strong you are. Especially a man with your build...well you've seen the results."

I took the criticism, I should have know that.

"Don't kick yourself over it though. That's why we're here." He handed me the gun back and put me back in position.

"Stand the way you were just standing." I complied. John starting with my shoulders made a smooth line down my body to my legs.

"This is your problem."

He slid his hand sensually between my legs which caused me to shudder. I separated them as John wanted til they were exactly where they needed to be. I looked back at him. God knows he could read the passion in my face. I really believed he was torturing me.

He replaced the silencer and stepped back as before, ready to give his commands.

"Ready." I cocked the gun.

"Aim." I line up the exact shot I wanted.

"FIRE!"

I pulled the trigger still a little taken back, but defiantly not as much as before. I turned back to John who looked shocked, confused I turned to see what damage I had done.

A straight shot through the left side of the chest. John blinked wearily. But smiled in approval. I removed my protection and walked towards him satisfied.

"That. Was. Amazing."

I never got tired of him marveling at me. Even now when his was truly the amazing one. He never noticed it though.

Next we tried the Shotgun. It fit my long lanky form perfectly but I deemed it worthless compared to the other guns.

The P226 however was a lot stronger than the Browning as much as I liked it, I knew I wouldn't be able to control it.

It was about 8 now and I thought we were done until John pulled an extra gun from his case. One I didn't even recognize.

"This is a single barrel, six chamber .455 Webley Revolver." he reassured me.

"It's a newer model, old to me."

As he went over the specifics of the gun I couldn't help but see 'Watson' plated in gold along the barrel of the gun. I was guessing it was a family er loon. Maybe his fathers, I tried not to deduce too much because I knew I would get the answer from John.

"It was given to me by my commander before my unit deployed for Afghanistan." John looked a bit sad while saying this I wondered if I should stop him, but he continued.

"He told me to keep it on me at all times in case I needed it, that was right before we flew off and a bomb exploded killing the whole camp. My commander with it."

Had John really come this close to death more than once. I marveled at the thought. How precious he was to me and how close he had come to dying so many times before I met him. What would I be without John. My Friend. My Doctor. My Protector. I would be the same lifeless shell that I have always been. The thought of losing John scared me more than I thought it would, and John could tell.

"I'm sorry Sherlock.. I just..." By this time my arms were wrapped around him in a tight hug. I couldn't help it. I needed him and he needed me.

"My dear, dear John. Please don't worry, and please don't apologize. You have no need to. I'm here and I'm going to make sure nothing ever happens to you."

I wrapped him up tighter feeling his warmth against me. He let out a small cry, but quickly regained his strength.

"Thank you Sherlock, for everything."

He stepped back grabbing one of my hands and kissing it softly. I smiled and nuzzled my head into his sandy blonde hair. He let go and walked over to the table. Selecting the right ammo for the job. He spun the chamber and looked at me.

"Give it a shot."

I smiled and took the gun from him. He stood opposite of me keeping both his hands on me leading in the correct stance. I sought my target I was after the furthest one. 500 yards. That shouldn't be too hard. I looked at John with a nod he place the muffs over my ears and began his commands.

"Ready. Aim. Fire!"

That gun felt so flawless in my hand, it's power was immense but obtainable for me. There was no kick back. Nothing. Just pure raw power. I looked at the gun then at the target. It wasn't there. Then I look at John who's mouth was agape. I removed my protection hoping not to have to put them back on.

"500 yard. Head Shot with a .455 Webely Revolver." He seemed shaken.

"That shouldn't of been possible."

I amazed myself when he said that. I looked at the gun in my hand and then to John who had adored it so. John had his thinking face on, but one I couldn't detect. He looked up at me and smiled.

"We're going to have to come here more often."

The ride back home was silent but not awkward. I'd occasionally catch John staring at me before he would blush and turn away. I just really wish I knew what he was thinking.


	5. Kiss with a Fist

John's Point of View:

"Where have you been going for the past week? You are always home late and I barely get to see you." Sherlock's words rang loudly through my ears.

I felt bad, really bad, for worrying him, for lying to him. But what was I supposed to do? If Sherlock found out what I am really doing to night, what I've been doing for the last couple of weeks. He'd kill me! Or worse, never speak to me again.

It isn't bad, well, not as bad as it could be. Honestly I don't even know why I'm doing it, but it's amazing, exhilarating, exciting, and dangerous. It helped me think as Sherlock's nicotine patches helped him. It isn't an addiction, at least I didn't want to think it was.

The most important reason I was here was to learn how to protect myself better, well protect Sherlock better. He meant way to much to me and I need the practice. I mean, _street fighting_ wasn't that bad was it? Yeah, okay it's bad. But it helps me.

I walked down the long dark alley that lead to a concrete clearing. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere I'm sure Sherlock didn't even know about. The light was dim, the surrounding buildings abandoned, and about 40 or so blokes, ages between what looked like 22-50, lined against the walls, huddled into corners, it was loud, it always was. But no one ever seemed to notice.

There were a of couple trash can fires to help with the dim lighting, and one man in the center, the ring leader of sorts who controlled everyone and everything. This is obviously where I got my gash. It was scabbed over but not fully healed, so I would have to be extremely careful.

The rules were simple; two men at a time, no tag-teaming, no hits below the belt, and most of all no police. Weapons were permitted, excluding guns and you had to stop when the other person said so. It wasn't a fight to the death, even though I'm sure it's happened, all the blokes were rugged.

We were just normal blokes who wanted to let out some anger and this was the easiest way to do it. I have won every fight I've done, not without difficultly. But I was confident, always ready for a good fight. I would stay and watch for about an hour or so and then step up myself. I would only do two or three myself, in fear of being too tired to win another. But tonight was different. I wanted to get straight into the action and I planned on it.

I stepped up, waiting for an opponent. Most of them were a lot taller than me, but their size was never intimidating. I took my jacket off, I didn't want it to get damaged, and threw it aside. It was weird feeling the cold wind sweep across my arms and through my t-shirt. I stretched out a bit, still waiting for an a opponent.

Two men stepped up, one a bit lanky, he didn't seem to have much muscle at all, but I never underestimate a bloke by his looks. The other, roughly 5' 9'', kind of chubby. I waited for them to decide who was going first, but they were deciding to slowly.

"Will one of you just step up and I'll take care of the other one after that." I said that with maybe a bit too much confidence. They both snickered. I guess that neither of them thought I was going to win. Which caused me to smile.

I saw a shudder come from the lanky one as he stepped forward. I walked over cautiously and presented my hand, I always try to be respectful. He took it then we stepped back, waiting on the ring leader's instructions.

"Any weapons?" He questioned. I never did, to me it seemed weak, if someone couldn't hold their own with the two weapons given to him, your right and left fist, then there was no point to fighting. The man said no as well.

"Alright, you know the rules. Let's fight."

I jumped back readying my stance. Before I had a chance to blink he was running after me with a blind fury. At least I took the time to think out my attack, this was going to be a lot easier than I thought. He grabbed me by my shoulders, first mistake. I gave him a brisk right hook to his stomach and then drove my elbow into his neck right above the collar bone. It set him back but didn't finish him. He charged at me again, I wondered if this guy was ever going to stop to think. This time he came with a fist raised, I tried to move but he clipped my shoulder, which made think. He's strong, but clumsy. I moved around until I got in the right position for my next move, he did the same, more or less because he didn't know what he was going to do. He launched at me again, I swiftly grabbed his head, lifted my knee, and brought his head into it forcefully. He threw himself back, I ended it with a swift kick to his right leg, that sent him to the ground.

I stepped back my knee was throbbing, it will probably be swollen tomorrow. I waited for the man to get up, he nodded towards me and stammered to the back wall. I nodded back, taking long, irritated breaths.

"There will be a short intermission for our friend here to catch his breath and then we will proceed to the next fight." I nodded thankfully. I did need a second. The next bloke was easily nearing 260 pounds, that's a lot of weight to throw around, and I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I shook my head, I needed to remain confident. A few blokes came and patted my back telling me it was a good fight, one told me they wouldn't want to face me, which made me feel good. The circle opened again and the ring leader entered.

"May I have our two opponents." He was loud, but you could barely hear it over the bustling heard of men. I stepped back in. I'm sure I'm ready for it. My opponent appeared out of the wave and I stuck out my hand again. He took it and then we stepped back. I stretched out once more and readied myself in stance. I was looking over him, or more, deducing him. Something Sherlock would be proud of. Heavy set, broad shoulders, short legged. That would definitely be his weak point. If I punched him in the stomach it would just ripple, so I would have to aim up.

The ring leader looked at me and nodded and then to my opponent. I subconsciously nodded back.

"and... Fight!"

This bloke was smarter than the first one, he took his time. I never like making the first move, but this was taking to long. I darted towards him, he followed. I raised my left leg for a kick but used that as a distraction to my right fist plowing into his face. He retaliated with an uppercut to my ribs. It knocked the wind out of me but I continued. I jumped out of his reach and hit the ground sweeping my leg under his feet. He hit the ground but got up almost immediately. Realizing my course of action was having no effect I stood in defense and waited. He charged and waited til he got close enough for me to grab him into a head lock.

"John!"

I held my grip but my mind had stopped.

"Sherlock..." By that time he was fighting through the crowd to get to me.

"John. Stop. Please" I heard him cry.

I let go of the man instantly, who obviously was not happy that I was walking away from him. He grabbed my shoulder and I throttled a fist into his temple, which thankfully knocked him out. Everyone started yelling as his mates settled around him. Knowing what was coming for me, I limped towards Sherlock, my knee was killing me, grabbing my jacket along the way.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" He was furious, but I didn't need his tone of voice to tell that.

I didn't know what to say, I kept my face low as I followed him down the alley way. He stopped about half-way through to look at me He raised his hand to my face and stroked it gently. I jerked a little, there was probably a bruise there already. I tried my best not to look at him. He was really upset, and probably hurt. I didn't want to be the cause of it, but I knew I was.

"John, is this really what you've been doing, where you've been going?" His other hand was on my shoulder now rubbing it gently.

I could tell he was mad, but right now he was more concerned. I just nodded, my mind was lost of any words that could help me. I looked up desperately at his face, it looked like he was about to cry which was shocking.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, please let me explain...I..." He just shook his head.

"Right now, we're going home. We're going to get you cleaned up and checked out. Then you can attempt to explain to me why I should believe anything you have to say to me." He grabbed my arm rather tightly and pulled me along.

I was scared I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't want to lose him though, he was hurt and I could tell. I prayed, the whole way home for something to help me. Sadly nothing ever came.


	6. Between Two Lungs

Sherlock's Point of View:

I didn't talk to him the rest of the way home, I couldn't. There was honestly nothing that I wanted to say to this man. He had intentionally put himself in danger, and for what reason. With the way he has been lying to me these past weeks, could I believe his reasons?

We entered the flat, I pulled John briskly over to the sofa and sat him down.

"Strip down to your pants. I need to see what injuries you have."

With that I walked into the kitchen grabbing the first aid kit we kept in one of the cabinets. This is obviously where he got that vicious gash on his arm.

"Sherlock I know where I'm hurt.."

I looked at him crossly. He really had no right to be voicing his opinion to me right now. He looked down, stood up, and did as instructed.

His knuckles were badly bruised and slightly bleeding, upon the removal of his shirt, his right elbow was also damaged, and he had an appearing bruise upon his midsection, hopefully none of his ribs were broken.

I stared at him blankly as he did this. I didn't know what to think. His trousers were undamaged, but I could tell he wasn't putting pressure on his right leg, that's why I requested that all his clothes be removed.

I fetched a bowl of hot water and a rag from the bathroom while he removed the rest of his clothes. When I returned he was lying on the sofa, I guess he thought I would request this from him. I walked over to him and got on my knees so I was at the correct height to deal with all of the wounds. Sadly they were all on the right side so I would have to get him to lay on his side. I grabbed his right side cautiously and coaxed him on to his left.

He did so without even sighing.

First I took his hand holding it in my left and dabbed it lightly with the warm water to clear the blood. He flinched every now and then. It was his fault to begin with. After I had cleaned it off, I put some ointment on it, and wrapped it up. I looked him up and down, there wasn't much I could do for his shoulder, midsection, or knee except make sure that they weren't broken. I was going to take pride in putting John in pain.

I lightly placed my hand on his right shoulder, reassuring him to lay back down onto his back. He did. I slowly ran my hand across his bruise, he gasped as I slowly started pressing down onto the spot and moved around the area to check the bone. He cringed but didn't stop me.

I let my hand make it's way down John's chest to the next bruise around his ribs and did the same. Nothing broken so far, thankfully. I slid my hand down the rest of his midsection, across his hip and thigh, and down to his knee, massaging it under my fingers. Everything checked out, just bruised skin and sore muscles.

I stood up with a deep sigh. Returning everything back to the kitchen, John just laid there in silence.

"So, would you like to explain to me why you've been lying to me? Or would you like to explain why you've been where you were and exactly what you were doing there."

I was cross, really cross. I almost didn't want an explanation. But I needed something to soothe over the pain he had caused me these past few weeks.

"Sherlock..." he groaned out while trying to sit himself up.

"I can tell you whatever you want, but you won't believe me." I walked back into the room and sat down in my chair across from John.

"Enlighten me..." I muttered sinking back to look deeply into his eyes. They looked desperate, but I wasn't sure of it.

"Yes, I know, I'm an idiot. I knew that when I started going. I lied to you to protect my stupid, ignorant self. But just because I lied to protect myself, that doesn't mean I went for myself." He never lowered his head, never looked away, he kept his eyes in mine. If this was the only way he thought I was going to believe him, he was wrong.

"Continue."

"I went because I am out of practice, there are a lot of dangerous people out there Sherlock, you of all people know that, and if I didn't have a gun on me to protect you, I need to keep up my skills. Practice in a gym seemed pointless, so I sought out more, human, help. This was the simplest way for me." He shuffled in his seat a bit, probably shifting his weight from the pain.

"I know it was wrong, and I was being selfish, I am being selfish now, but I needed to make sure I could protect you." He continued to stare deep into my eyes, but I felt like something was wrong.

"John." I tried to speak softly.

"I appreciate you wanting to protect me..." but I couldn't keep my tone down. I started to raise my voice,

"But that doesn't mean you can put yourself in danger. Especially without me knowing. Sometimes I wonder how you come to the conclusion that it's okay to act this way."

I was clenching the arm rest, before I threw myself out of the seat and over to the window.

My chest was tight and breathing had become hard. I needed to calm down.

John rose and put his clothes back on. I shot a quick look at him. What was he doing now.

"Well, Sherlock. That's the truth. All of it." He walked around the table and grabbed his jacket.

"And until you will believe me I don't want to be around. I'm sorry. I really am sorry Sherlock for lying to you, and making you worry. But I will not apologize for trying to keep you safe." He was making his way to the door.

"John! Do you even hear what you're saying?" I walked towards him cautiously.

"How do expect me to believe you when you've lied to me for the past weeks. I can't help the fact that I worry about your safety, and I won't try to stop either. But you just can't leave. For one, you are hurt. Two, I will not have it." I stopped in the middle of the room. I could feel my blood boiling.

He snapped around, hand already on the door.

"No. No more Sherlock. I will not have you bossing me around like you own me. Because you most certainly don't." He opened the door and made his way limping down the stairs.

I didn't want to go after him. I wanted him to walk straight out of that door and out of my life. If he wasn't the only person that mattered to me, I would've let him do it.

But I couldn't.

I heard the front door shut, and with out thinking ran after him. He was walking quickly, but that wasn't really fast considering his leg. I didn't say anything while catching up with him because I didn't want him to run off. Instead I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around him and snuggling my face into his neck.

"John, please John. You can't leave." I felt my warm breath rebounding from his skin.

"I need you John, more than that I need to know that you're safe, and I can't make sure of that unless I have you with me, please John, come back inside."

He loosened himself from my grip turning around to meet his eyes with mine. I was afraid of what would happen next, was he going to push me away and keep walking. Was he going to punch me. No, John wouldn't do that, would he?

I became weak to my knees, dropping the onto the cold concrete and burying my face into his torso, my arms still wrapped around him. I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

He laced his fingers into my hair and lowered himself onto his uninjured knee.

"Sherlock. My dear Sherlock." He spoke softly, still tussling with my hair.

"That's all I needed to know." He laid his lips gently against my forehead and then slid me into a hug.

"Let's go back inside, you are bound to catch a cold with the way you're dressed." This caused me to smile, John playing the doctor again. We both rose. I tucked one arm under his to help his limping form into the flat.


	7. In the Branches

John's Point of View:

The night had gone pretty well after Sherlock and I had settled down. I went to bed a bit after we got in, Sherlock on the other hand, I wasn't really sure what he was up to. Later the next day I got a text from Harry.

"I'm going out with Harry at 6, I have the text on my phone if you want to see it."

I know I was being a bit weird about it, but I need Sherlock to trust me. If he didn't who would keep him safe. He was sitting on the sofa, in his usual position, gazing over the laptop screen until I spoke. At which time he looked up at me and smiled.

"No John, it's fine. I believe you."

I didn't understand why he gave me his trust back so easily, but I wasn't going to let him down again. I swore that to myself.

It was about 4:30 now, not really much time to do anything in particular, and I didn't want to eat before I went out.

"Tea?" I called from the kitchen. He waved it off. I wonder what was keeping his attention on that screen.

"Are you going to be alright? I mean, by yourself. I can ask Harry if you can come with us. I'm sure she won't mind, she does want to meet..." I looked over at him before I finished my sentence, and he was giving me that 'John, you're an idiot' look.

"Right. Well then. Feel free to text me if you need me." I finished.

"You know I will John." He said placing his eyes back onto the screen.

The rest of my time at the flat before Harry came was normal. I sat and watched telly quietly so not to disturb Sherlock, and he would not take his gaze off that computer. Before I left I walked cautiously over to him, he sat completely motionless.

"I'll be back in no time, and remember you can..."

"Text you if I need you, yes I know John."

"Yes, thank you." I ran my right hand through his gorgeous curls and walked towards the door.

"John?" I saw Sherlock tilt his head up as he said this. "Please be careful."

I smiled at him.

"I will, and I've got my gun." I patted my side.

He nodded and I made my way down the steps and to the car. I had no idea where Harry and I were going. Out to eat? Maybe a bar? We chatted lightly along the way.

The first place we stopped was a nice restaurant maybe 10 minutes away from Harry's. We got in, she had a table reserved, we sat, ordered, and then began a very interesting conversation.

"How's Sherlock John? You know I still haven't met the man. You need to get him to come out with us one night." She spoke in between sips of wine.

"He's great, really great."

I got lost in the thought of Sherlock. Him running after me last night, telling me he needed me, that he needed me safe. I almost felt bad for leaving him tonight to go out with Harry. But I'm sure he understands.

"Oh really. How would you explain this little relationship between you guys anyway? There is no way you can say he is just your flatmate."

"He is just my flatmate." I said with a bit of anger in my voice.

"John, you need to quit lying to yourself. You should see the way you look when you talk about him, and boy do you talk about him, also the way your eyes sparkle. It's like you are a completely different man when he is on your mind. Face the facts babe. You love him."

That was a strong word. Even for me, yes I had said it to a couple women in my lifetime, but I don't think I ever meant it. I mean Sherlock, God. That impossible man. Would he even...how would I talk to him about this. It would be better if I just let it go, but it doesn't mean I can't get it off my chest since Harry is here to listen to me.

"I don't know what it is Harry, but what I do know is, that I want to keep him safe. From everything. I want to make sure he is the happiest he has ever been, and I want to stand by his side, til the day I die."

I was looking down, I didn't want her to try to read my facial expressions again.

"That's devotion, which is love. John, you know I love you, and I know you've never thought of being with a man, I haven't either it runs in the family. But I think it would be better for you to at least tell Sherlock your feelings, and if he doesn't feel the same way I'm sure he won't hold it against you."

That was my biggest fear. Even though Sherlock has become very..well, emotional lately. I wasn't sure how he meant it all.

The waiter came, sat down our food, which I don't remember ordering, and Harry and I decided to take a break from the talk to eat.

I felt like I was starving since I hadn't eaten anything since this morning, but I felt sick. I don't really know why, I just looked at my plate. I was afraid that if I ate something I would immediately throw it back up. I decided to wait and continued the conversation.

"Even if I_ love_ Sherlock, it's not like I can just walk into the flat tonight, yell it from the top of my lungs, and snog him. What kind of person does that."

Harry finished what she had and took a couple sips of her wine.

"You are not my brother." She said after.

"What?" was the only word I could scratch out of my throat.

She finished off her wine and looked me dead in the eyes.

"You are not my brother. You are not the John Watson I grew up with." she said still staring into me.

"What do you mean by that?" I didn't know what to feel about what she said. I wasn't angry, I guess I was just curious.

"What happen to the boy I grew up with who would stick up for some bloke he didn't know at school? What happened to the brave and bold man that invaded Afghanistan, the same man who took a bullet to the shoulder and still runs around the London streets fighting crime."

She took her hands from the table and placed them on mine.

"You've changed John, I don't know what it was, the therapy maybe. It's made you soft. I remember back in the day when you would do anything to get exactly what you want. Now you're afraid of going after what you want because you think he will get rid of you?"

She looked down a second, most likely to collect her thoughts.

"If what you tell me about this man is true. He will never let your leave his side. Even if he has to die trying. Does that sound like a man who is going to push you away for how you feel?"

She was right, about everything. I have grown soft. I was that kid who used to stick up for everyone, no matter the cost. Because the action outweighed the cost every time. Now I was afraid that Sherlock will desert me.

"How then Harry? How am I supposed to go about this. I really don't think I could just walk up to him and say it."

She smiled and took her hands back.

"Oh John, you know that cheesy saying 'Actions speak louder than Words'."

I was just sat there, I knew the point she was trying to make but I wasn't sure how I would go about doing that either.

"So. You want me to get back to the flat, walk up to Sherlock, and snog him."

I was being blunt, very blunt.

"Yes, in a way, but don't just do it. You have to build into it, you know? Caress him a bit, flatter the man, then you just lay it down."

I sighed. I guess this really is the only way to go about it. Unless Sherlock somehow decides to confess his feelings. If he has any for me.

By this time Harry had almost cleaned her plate and I had realized I haven't even touched mine. Still feeling a bit sick I decided to eat.

After we had finished we drove to Harry's house. She had found some of my old army memorabilia in a box in the attic, which included my uniform. I took it thankfully.

"Harry, I have an idea. Well... it's more of a plan." I said pulling out my gun.

"You see this gold piece with my name on it?" I asked.

"Awww is that the gun your commander gave you? I haven't seen you with that in ages!" She exclaimed taking the gun.

"Yes well to the point I need to get another one of those with a different name put on." I said holding my hand out to take the gun back.

"Why...what are you doing with it John?"

I just smiled.

It was about 9 when I got back to the flat. I offered to take a taxi back since Harry was closer to home, and by the time I had reached the door. I knew exactly what I was going to do.

Sherlock's Point of View:

No later than John's departure Mycroft appeared, reluctantly I let him in.

"What is it now Mycroft?" I asked taking my seat on the sofa as he sat across from me in John's chair.

"Come now my dear brother, can't I just stop by to check on you?" he said in is 'sincere' voice.

"No." I replied.

It wasn't likely for Mycroft to stop by just to check up on me. He will tell you himself he can't be away from the office for long.

"Well I do have a case for you, but before I tell you about it I want to ask you about your relationship with John."

I shot him a quick look and then turned away. Why was that any of his business.

"I can tell Sherlock, you've let him change you. The once deemed heartless consulting detective has found his heart. It is obvious that you two have become more than flatmates, but you are holding back how you feel. Why is that?"

"I feel the same way about John as I always have, he is a good friend, a great man, and an idiot. Nothing more." I stated, leaning back against the sofa and crossing my legs.

"Oh my dear brother, why continue the facade? I can tell how harshly you've been deducing yourself and your feelings. I..."

"Okay, yes. I have but what does that have to do with anything? I don't even know how John feels about me. I know he wants to keep me safe and that is all."

I snapped, and I know I shouldn't of. I just made every point of Mycroft's true. I was lying to myself about everything I feel for that man. He is incredible, ignorant, loyal, surprising, and beautiful. He could never be normal and boring to me.

He's an idiot, he is my idiot.

"Sherlock. No one is going to think bad of you for it. I think it's a wonderful thing. He has made you better than you've ever been. Taking you from a great man, to a good one. He is so protective of you because he is devoted to being with you for the rest of his life. He has killed a man for you and will promise to do many more times as long as you are safe."

Mycroft stood and walked over to the sofa, he sat down next to me placing a hand on my shoulder.

I relaxed a bit, letting my head fall into my hands.

"Alright Mycroft. I do care about John, very much, but what am I supposed to do about it?" I asked with my head still down.

He patted my shoulder gently.

"Well you could tell him, that would be a start."

I rose my head.

"And if he doesn't feel the same way?" I inquired.

"You really don't think he doesn't do you? It's obvious. It's been obvious since the first night I saw you two together."

"Really?"

I had to think about this. If there was anything about John, I knew it. I knew it before John did sometimes. There was no way I misplaced his feelings for me. He had been showing me a lot of attention lately. Hugs. Light kisses to the forehead. Small caresses. I just thought that was John being comforting.

"You really need to get this off your chest and out of your mind. It's affecting your judgement Sherlock."

He was right about that too. I haven't been thinking clearly, even deducing some by passer on the street has been difficult.

I let out a sigh.

"Take him out on a date, have a good time, be persistent but not aggressive. Show him how you feel with light touches, maybe a smile every now and then, and then just kiss him."

I sat up.

"Just like that. Just kiss him."

"Yes Sherlock, it's not a difficult task. Wait for a moment when you two are really close, capture his attention, let the threat of the kiss paralyze him, then dive in. Believe me neither of you will regret it."

Mycroft smiled at me then stood up handing me the case.

"You will do fine, right now I need you on this." He said returning to the seat across from me.

"Seems like we have an arsonist."

"Call the fire department." I said leafing through the pages of the report.

"Excuse me Sherlock, I'm not finished." He cleared his throat.

"He's been killing my men."

"What's missing?" I guessed that was the point some missing secret file or government plans.

"Nothing, that's why I'm coming to you. I want you to figure out who this madman is and bring him in." He said shifting in the chair.

He seemed uncomfortable, or maybe scared.

"Mycroft." I tried to speak sincerely.

"Yes Sherlock. I am afraid for my men and for me. That's why I need you on this case."

I sat there for a moment.

"I'll do my best."

"Splendid. Why don't you and John come over tomorrow around 3 so we can discuss the evidence. I can also show you the newest crime scene." With that he stood and walked over to me.

"Please send John my greetings." He said placing his hand on my shoulder, then turning to the door.

"and Sherlock, please try to tell John how you feel...soon."

"Goodby Mycroft." I said going to the door and shutting it.

How was I supposed to tell him how I feel if I'm not exactly sure of my feelings. I know I never want him to leave. I want him by my side where ever I go. I want him safe, and happy.

Frustrated I laid down on the sofa.

Right now. I just want John home.


	8. For Reasons Unknown

John's Point of View:

When I got inside the flat Sherlock was sitting on the sofa leafing through some papers. A case most likely, but he would of contacted me if Lestrade had come by.

"Hello." I said walking towards him smiling.

He smiled back, obviously happy to see me.

"John. I have something to ask you." He said shuffling to stand up.

"No. Sit. That can wait. I have two things for you." He sat back down.

"Wait here I'll be back in a minute."

I ran up the stairs and to my room. The case that my gun was given to me in was in the top drawer of my dresser. I pulled it out and put the newly mended gun in it and carried it back downstairs.

Sherlock was still sat on the sofa, right where I left him. I slid some things down the table in front of the couch and sat down. The case was in my lap.

"This is one of the two things I have to give you. Before I let you see it I'm going to explain. I talked to Harry tonight about my concern for you safety. If it isn't obvious, it's one of the only things I care about. But if there is ever a time when I'm not around, and I hope that time will never come. I need to know that you are safe and this is the only way my mind can be at ease."

I handed him the case which he opened rather quickly.

He eyes lit up like I have never seen before, his mouth agape, he slowly ran his fingers over it and picked it up.

"John...John I can't accept this..." He said shakily.

He was looking at the side with the gold plate engraved _'Watson'_, while I was looking at the side engraved _'Sherlock'._

Harry wasn't to keen to the idea when I told her, but she let me do it anyways.

"Flip it over." I was excited. I wanted to see his reaction to this.

His hands started shaking as he marveled at the gun in his hand. Once he saw it he sat the gun in the case and put off to the side. He was now staring into my eyes, lost almost. He didn't know what to say.

He slowly reached out to me, pulling me into a hug and snuggling into my jumper. I wrapped my own arms around him carefully and squeezed gently.

"When did you do that?" He questioned pulling back to see my face again.

"A couple of hours ago. I thought, this way, everyone would know it's yours. But they would also know that it _was_ mine. And well you'll never forget me." I looked down.

It hurt me to say that, but if anything ever happens to me I want him to know that I am still there. Protecting him. I needed that. I needed to know that he would always be safe, because I would always be there. Even if it is just a gun, it was my gun and now it was his.

He was smiling. I was really glad he liked it and I hoped that one day it will be as important to him as it has always been to me.

He raised his hand and cupped my face. His face was only so far away and I couldn't take my eyes off his gorgeous lips. If I was going to make my move this would be a time to do it. No I don't have time to think it out but I don't think I needed to. It was do or die and I'd be stupid to let myself die.

I leaned in slowly letting our lips graze over before pushing them firmly together. I sat one hand on his thigh, the other I had in his hair, my fingers twirling the mess of curls. His hand he left on my face, the other he wrapped around my face pulling me onto him on the sofa. We released our lips to look deep into one another's eyes. Then slowly sinking back into our kiss.

It was magic. Soft, astounding, beautiful. I really didn't want it to stop but I pulled back.

"That was the second thing I wanted to give you." I said smiling.

"Well I really don't know which one I like better. Can I keep them both?" He said moving his hand from my face to the back of my neck.

I kissed him. He was such a beautiful idiot.

"Of course you can."

The way we were positioned Sherlock was leaning back against the sofa my left knee was settled in between his legs. He still had is hand around my waist holding me close to him. I was hovering over him, my right leg was trying to find purchase on the floor. One hand on his thigh, the other tangled into his hair. And I was happy. Oh boy was I happy that everything had worked out exactly as I planned. Except I didn't plan what happened next.

Sherlock removed his hand from my neck and moved the gun and case to the table. Then he swiftly grabbed me pulled me up and over him until we were both lying on the sofa, me on top of him.

I felt my face get hot. I couldn't help it, I was lying on top of Sherlock! He just grinned both of his arms wrapped around my waist while I was clutching the couch beside Sherlock's head on either side.

He let one hand drift up my back and he insisted I lay my head on his chest. I did and slid my arms in the space under his neck.

We laid there for at least an hour, talking, cuddling, giving light butterfly kisses. I didn't care. Right now, I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. Nothing could replace this moment. I had him. Sherlock was mine at last. I couldn't believe how easy it went and now we were both _lost_ in what we had found.

About 12 o' clock Sherlock decided we should go to bed so we could get up early enough for him to tell me about the case.

I raised myself off of him and stood hand out to help him get up. He took it and forcibly threw himself into me wrapping his free arm around my waist and kissing me. When he pulled back I was left staring into his eyes.

"Would you come to bed with me John?" He asked.

I shook out of my daze. He didn't mean he wanted to... no surly he wouldn't want to this early... would he.

Sherlock pulled the words right off my face.

"Not like that." He said with a sigh.

"Yes." I didn't wait a second more to reply. I definitely could see myself sleeping in bed alone knowing Sherlock was in his after what just happened.

We walked in. I stripped down to my pants and waited for Sherlock to get into his pajamas before we both slid under the covers and tangled our bodies together.

I'm not sure if I even slept. I spent most of the night laying light kisses to different sections of Sherlock's face and whispering small love words. He fell asleep smiling, which was enough to make me happy.

* * *

><p>The next morning I had to pry myself away from Sherlock, he seemed very cuddly in the morning. I wouldn't mind if we weren't supposed to meet Mycroft. I was out of his grip and hovering over him. He sleepily blinked his eyes open and smiled.<p>

"My beautiful idiot." I said as I laid my lips across his.

Sherlock, in turn, wrapped his arms around me and pulled back onto the bed. He shifted a bit and rolled on top of me, pinning my body to the bed. He sat, straddling me, one leg on each side of my body. His face was buried into my neck spreading light kisses from my clavicle to my jaw.

"John...oh John, my sweet John" he mumbled over and over again.

I just smiled and snuggled my face into the mess of curls that covered his skull. I raised my arms to lay them on the gorgeous man spread over me, but he resisted pinning them down.

"Sherlock" I moaned.

"Sherlock, we have to get ready." I said trying to shift my weight to roll him off of me.

"You're not going anywhere" he growled as he pressed down on me.

I felt myself melt beneath him, Sherlock was a master of words, he's tone did it all.

"What do you want from me love?" I asked giving up my attempts at freedom.

Sherlock sat up but didn't relinquish his grip from me.

"Love?" he inquired. He looked stunned and then confused.

"I'm sorry." I almost started panicking.

"Do you not want me to call you that? I can call you.." My sentence was broken by his lips pressed firmly against mine.

"That was.." He said breaking the kiss and stopping to search for the correct word.

"Adorable!" He exclaimed.

I laughed, I couldn't help it. I felt bad though so I leaned up and kissed his nose.

"No" I tried to say.

"That was adorable."

He snuggled into my neck once more, trying to hide the blush that had spread across his face. He released his grip, enabling me to wrap my arms around him to squeeze him tightly.

"Oh Sherlock." I exhaled.

After a bit more rolling around, trying to keep possession of the other, and a few more kisses we finally got out of bed.

We we're in the cab now and on the way to Mycroft's. The ride up there was quiet, we would glance at each other and smile from time to time. Until, I guess, Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore. We were pulling through the gates of the main entrance when he threw himself onto me, kissing me passionately as the cab coasted to a stop. He pulled away slightly, I probably looked dumbfounded. He gave me a playful smile and exited the cab.

Once out he offered me a hand, I took it nervously, taking quick glances at our surroundings as Sherlock gently helped me out.


End file.
